The Unspoken
by Plastic Female Plaything
Summary: Finally Max enters my story. Betcha never thought that would happen, eh? I am way to long winded for my own good. UPDATED: Like I said, now we've got chapter seven which acutally has Max in it! Go me!
1. She fell into darkness...

Disclaimer: No I still don't own Dark Angel!  
  
Notes: I've gone and decided to make my odd little drabble a full-fledged story now. Eeee! How exciting!  
  
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
...The Unspoken...  
  
...Plastic Female Plaything...  
  
...plasticteenprototype@earthlink.net...  
  
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
She'd first heard the songs about a week after they brought her to the cell.  
  
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
The guard who stood by her cell during the long night shift was a pleasant, soft-faced young man who told her stories of his young, even sweeter faced wife who had just had given birth to a daughter. Mind you, it occurred to her later that he'd never really been speaking to her, but this was the before the time that she could tell the difference between mouth-noise and mind-noise. But more important than his unintentional stories were his songs. To keep himself awake during the long, long night shift he would sing songs. She was fascinated with these songs. So entirely unlike speaking. It was the entire base of their appeal. But after a month of his presence, guards were deemed no longer necessary.  
  
After he left, all she had were the songs. So she sang them to keep the bitter silence away. She didn't understand the meanings or purpose of them all the time, but that didn't matter. She sang them loudly as she could, she whispered them so softly she could barely hear them even with her enhanced hearing, and she sang them until her throat was so raw and dry that she coughed blood. When she sang, she remembered herself. When she wasn't singing, she only felt as though she was only a motionless extension of the building that kept her here. It was until they came close enough to hear her screaming one of her beloved songs at the very top of her voice that things got worse. Being that she was too dangerous to be brought to the doctors, they brought a doctor to her who spoke with her through the metal grate in the door.  
  
To put it lightly, that didn't go well.  
  
It did however mark a change in the way of her thinking. The others only acknowledged noise when they moved their mouths. It was very difficult to understand this man though, when his mouth-noise often differed so greatly from his mind-noise.  
  
Her frustration grew slowly and steadily for this man who made mouth-noise to convince her that he wished to help her, while his mind-noise told her that he was going to condemn her. She would not make mouth-noise with such a man, a man who would jump so quickly to his verdict. Why did this fickle man not understand that his judgment would lead her somewhere worse than three meals a day and a soft sleeping mat? She turned away from his pasty face, blurred by the grate, and towards the opposite wall.  
  
And she began to sing.  
  
Softly at first, so softly that this man's normal hearing could not detect her melody. But as all her songs did, it grew within her, grew in strength as it spiraled past her lips to bounce off the four gray painted walls, magnifying her harmony until her sounds drowned out mind and mouth noise alike.  
  
The ashen faced man turned away from her grate then to speak with another man, a different man who's mind-noise echoed darkly in her. She thought about dimming the volume of her song to listen to what the outcome of her failed psychoanalysis would be, but she only increased in volume, choosing happiness while it was still available.  
  
When she heard the door of her dungeon opened for the first time in a month, she wasn't surprised. She didn't even turn around and the clear notes of her song did not falter in their beautiful intensity. Her mouth tripped and fumbled for the first time when she felt the dark minded man's hands on her shoulders, pulling her roughly to her feet, spinning her around to face him. His mouth said nothing, but his eyes and mind spoke of the same punishment.  
  
"This is going to hurt, isn't it?"  
  
It was the most she had said since she came to the cell. To the doctor she gave only yes and no words, but to this man she gave seven words. She didn't remember speaking much even in the before time of no cell, but larger rooms and others who were close to her always. This new man spoke again, tossing around words as though they meant nothing to him.  
  
"It doesn't have to. Just stop singing."  
  
She stared up into the wide face of this cruel stranger, uncomprehending. Stop singing? Stop the one thing made her feel different from the walls or the floor or the mat she slept on? She would withstand this promised punishement to feel different then a silent object whose only purpose was to waste away within the confines of her prison.  
  
The dark minded man seemed reassured by her lack of mouth words. Or maybe it was not the absence of her mouth-noise, but the absence of her songs that the man took as her obedience. In any case, he turned to leave the cell.  
  
No. No. No.  
  
The same rebellious spirit that overwhelmed her a month ago welled up within her until she was so full of it, so full that it swam behind her eyes, almost blinding her in it's hateful energy. So immeasurable was it that she had no more mind words to remind her that the last time she had defied them. No reminders left to warn her of the price she paid for her defiance: Her comparative freedom.  
  
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
"She attacked one of the doctors at first, sir. She called to the others of her unit to help her but they were already responding to orders being issued by one of the guards. It took three units of to subdue and tranquilize her. She killed four of her own unit, the three doctors that were performing routine test number 4-6-5-4 on her, and all seven of the guards under my command. She is currently unconscious and awaiting transportation. Permission to transport her to psy-ops, sir?"  
  
"Permission denied."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"She's to dangerous to be rehabilitated. We can't take the risk that something like this could happen again... Lock her up."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
Just as she wouldn't let the doctor touch her then, performing tests that even the doctors thought were torture, she wouldn't let this foolish man take away the last thing that still felt human to her.  
  
So she sang.  
  
She had given up trying to defend herself after she had turned on those who used to be close to her everyday. They all spoke with kind mouth and mind- noise to her and she was happy amongst them. She thought they would follow her when she attacked the doctor. But they didn't have kind words for her then. Only confused eyes and empty minds. When she killed the four that had responded to the order to terminate her, they didn't speak with mouth words, but their minds screamed at her so loudly that she paused just long enough for a nameless guard to jab the needle into her arm.  
  
She didn't understand what it was about this song that made the man beat her with such intensity, but this dark minded man became enraged at the first words out of her mouth. His fists and feet fell in heavy bursts across her face and body. When he stopped and she saw the world before her blackening, she smiled up at him from the floor, her mouth filling with blood as she whispered the last words of the song.  
  
"Birds fly over the rainbow,  
  
Why then oh why can't I?"  
  
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-~  
  
When she awoke, she was in a new cell. A cell where it was darkness all the time.  
  
She never sang again.  
  
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-~  
  
To be continued...  
  
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
Review please! It's my driving force. I went and decided to make this a full story because of two little reviews! And also stay tuned for chapter two! 


	2. And raced towards the light...

Disclaimer: No I still don't own Dark Angel!  
  
Notes: I've gone and written the second chapter of my drabble turned real story. Do please review, if you will. It makes me an extra happy author lady! :)  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
...The Unspoken...  
  
...by Plastic Female Plaything...  
  
...plasticteenprototype@earthlink.net...  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
Her life in this dark place stretches on and on, much longer than she was in the other cell. It was longer even than the before time. Memories fade, as most things do, but she swore she would never forget how she came here. The cell before this cell is a bright image in her mind. No, she doesn't forget the other cell. It was the colors she forgot. The shapes of things are clear, but the colors just fade to black. She knew that something was wrong with her memory; she realized that there ought to be colors, but she couldn't remember them. She knew her beginning, but couldn't see her end. Only blackness. All around her relentless dark pressing against her body.  
  
It seems sometimes a living thing. Other times it seems even more lifeless than she.  
  
She pressed startlingly thin fingers to her face, to remind herself that she still had one.  
  
She struck with clenched fists at the wall, to remind herself that she could still feel pain.  
  
Sometimes she pressed so hard that her fingers left indentations in her skin.  
  
Sometimes she hits again and again until warm blood flowed from her hands.  
  
Once she knew daytime. In the before time, they would often train out of doors, the doors that are now only closed to her, and she would taste the sweet fresh air and smelled the pleasing sent of the trees. Now she only knew night, she tasted only the stale air of her cell and smelled the sent of her own body.  
  
It is difficult to bear such monotony when you are made to sleep seldomly. At first sleeping was a welcome escape. In sleep the nothingness was complete. No walls, no mind-noise, nothing at all. Empty. But then the dreams started and sleep was no escape at all. The darkness of her cell followed her even there. If it were just the darkness that followed her from the world of real to the world of sleeping then she would not mind so much, but it was not just the darkness. The mind screams of those, whose life had been stolen away at her hands, until they lay motionless in pools of vivid red blood, followed her to the world of sleeping as well.  
  
She woke up weak and fearful from such dreams, the echoes of screaming still in her mind. It faded soon after, but the fear was still there. She sleeps very little, even for a transgenic.  
  
Hours, minutes, seconds. She remembered that time meant much in the before time. Everything was regulated by time. Eating time. Sleeping time. Training time. Now time had no meaning for her. No use. No purpose. Food came at irregular intervals, as if the world outside her cell has lost the measurement of time with her. Sometimes it would be until hunger ate away at her body, and her arms and legs became too weak for her to rise from her mat, until food came for her. Other times food would come so close together that she was still full from her last meal when the next one arrived. Her hair grew long from her head. Longer than they ever would have allowed it in the before time but no one saw her, just as she saw no one, so they do not know. Her fingernails and toenails grew long too, but she bit them off.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
All time, that has no more meaning, passed this way.  
  
All time passed with out interlude, with out significant change until she woke up with the screams echoing in her brain to find that the darkness was thick and hot against her. Her breath comes slowly and difficult, but the more she breathed in, the worse it became. It made her cough so violently that fell off her mat to the floor. The darkness now smelled differently as well. The darkness had never smelled of anything but her unwashed body before. Something about this new scent made the fear rise within her, threatening to suffocate her even more than the air did. She tried to remember from the before time. No. No! NO! Burning. Fire. Smoke. Destruction. She remembered why this smell was so familiar.  
  
Death comes for me now, she thought.  
  
But then, oh! The door flew open letting light into her cell.  
  
She screamed.  
  
Her hands clawed in fierce fists at her eyes, trying to stop the sudden and intense pain burning at them. When she opened them again, there was no light, but she had not heard the door close. She pressed her hands back to her eyelids. Now she could hear an alarm sounding out. She knew it was not the light that had gone, but instead it was her vision that had fled at the first moment that she needed it.  
  
The sounds of feet slapping against the hard floor and incoherent mind- noise filled her ears and she tried to call out to these quick moving people, but it had been so long since she had made mouth words that no sound came from her lips. She tried again, her desperation giving her strength, and this time her efforts were rewarded with a rough unpleasant sound that erupted from her. It was not a word, but it was enough to catch the attention of two passing males. Their mind voices were stronger than the others, less afraid. They stood in her doorway, and stared at her skin- and-bones body, frighteningly pale skin, hands pressing firmly against her eyelids.  
  
"How long as she been in there?  
  
"Her eyes... why does she have her hands like... something is wrong with her eyes. Is she blind?"  
  
"Look at her skin... have you ever seen anything like that? She must have been in here for years. The light from the door way... it must have temporarily blinded her."  
  
"Should we help her? I don't think she can make it out by herself."  
  
Help. Yes. She remembers the meaning of this word. She needs help. They must help her. She must make her voice work again. Again her desperation aids her.  
  
"Heeeleepe."  
  
It was almost not a word with the way her throat, unused since she defied the dark minded man, distorted it. They must have heard and understood her on some level; she felt warm hands lift her frail body from the floor. Hands still pressed against her eyelids, she was carried as gently as this faceless man can, given his apparent haste. Yes, she remembered. Burning. Fire. Smoke. Destruction. Escape. Out-  
  
"She weighs almost nothing. Smells too. Wha-"  
  
The ground trembled and wavered beneath them, no more words were spoken as they renewed their speed, running as quickly as only a transgenic could. Her saviors were like her. This was good, she decides. The other ones would only put her into another cell, and maybe this time it would be worse. Soon they went through the last door, and clean air burst fresh and cold on her skin. She could breath again freely, no longer hindered by the threat of smoke, and did so in great shuddering bursts. She wished that she had the use of her eyes so that she might see this new and fresh outside world. A world with trees, animals, and air that would no longer sit heavy in her lungs.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
She could not have realized how her life would change now that the cell was gone. She could not comprehend the vastness of the world outside of her walls. She could not know the hardships she would endure. For now, she only made happy mind-noise that spoke of boundless hope and a naive faith in a world she had never known.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
It would be another month before she fully regained the use of her eyes.  
  
But for now she was content with these two strangers.  
  
Racing towards the light.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
To be continued.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-  
  
Yeah! Chapter two is out and I just wanted to thank the three people (so far) that have reviewed my story. You guys made my day! Thanks! And also thanks to Nini for telling me with absolute honesty that the first chapter of my story was lacking in commas. Thanks Nini! May you always be around to fix my mistakes. :p 


	3. Only to find darkness lives within...

Disclaimer: No I still don't own Dark Angel!

Notes: How delightful it is to have finally finished this extra long chapter! I had never 

intended for it to be so much longer, but it just seemed like so much had to be 

accomplished in this chapter and I didn't want to rush anything. Okay then! Well, as 

usual keep reviewing because it makes me almost scarily happy for days! 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

...The Unspoken...

...by Plastic Female Plaything...

...plasticteenprototype@earthlink.net...

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Seven days. For the day to exist again was a blessing, even if her eyes could not truly 

detect it's presence. She may have not been able to measure the passing of time by the 

rising and setting of the sun, but there were other ways for her. She awoke every morning 

at the sound of the birds breaking into the first of many fresh morning songs. She 

measured it with the sun's warmth on her face and body. But she measured it most of all 

with those who had rescued her and kept her close to them still. 

For seven days everything was perfect.

Oh blissful seven days, seven days where they asked no mouth-words of her save the 

ones that she gave them freely and of her own accord. She seldom gave them her words 

and even then they were not great in amount. Only one or two, here and there. A yes 

word. A no word. She only gave what was needed, nothing more, nothing less. Her 

mouth-words fell tediously from her and sat heavy and unmoving on the air. The edges of 

these words were harsh with sharp edges in her ears, not as pleasing as the mouth-noise 

of the two others. Her ears welcomed their words, for they were quick and light in the air, 

pliant and delicate in he ears.

At first she was not strong enough to run with them, for they were running without 

significant pause. Always running. But as she grew to recognize the more subtle signs of 

daylight and regain a more proficient use of her legs, they began to stop for the entirety of 

the night for rest. She could tell from their faint mind-noise that the constant strain that 

they had been placing themselves under was beginning to take its toll upon their bodies. 

It became necessary for them to leave her on her own for short periods of time to obtain 

food. They never asked her to go with them and she never followed. She liked this. No 

words spoken, just the knowledge of what was expected of another. Once one of them 

approached her after one of these trips with her share of the food, and new clothing to 

replace her long outgrown uniform, dirty from the neglect that the cell had forced upon 

her. His mind-noise was hesitant, almost fearing that she would not appreciate this gift. 

Oh but she did. She took them with out words and dressed herself in them, but she 

approached him later and thanked him with small mouth-words for his thoughtfulness. 

She knew that she was of no value to them, with her sightless eyes and child-like 

strength. Yet, regardless of her faults, their mind-noise told her of a strange but genuine 

pleasure in seeing to her well being. It was this that confused her the worst of all. She 

understood caring for another of your unit, but she was not part of their unit. No, their 

mind-noise told her of something deeper, something that they themselves did not quite 

understand, yet accepted. She tried to accept it too, but something inside of her thought 

often of their pleasure taken at her good health. They both made mind-noise daily about 

her improving appearance. She looks more and more human every day, they say. 

Human? She knows she is not human. In the before time they told her that her body was 

made of many things. They told her that an animal called "cat" was a great part of her. 

They showed her a picture of a cat. She didn't understand. Her skin had no fur, like this 

cat beast. She had no claws, she did not walk using all four limbs, she had no tail. Yet, 

they insisted this animal was a part of her. She didn't understand then, but she grew to 

think that perhaps she had come to an understanding now. But it wasn't so much an 

understanding as it was an acceptance. They said her outside form was returning to 

human. She was made of many things. It made a strange sense to her that she might have 

taken on the appearance of another part of her that was not human while was the victim 

of the cell.

She didn't really understand at all.

For seven days she was appreciative of their care for her. Under their watchful attention, 

she grew strong enough to run beside them for short allotments of time. Every day she 

would run with them for longer and longer. She could tell that this pleased them so she 

pushed herself until she felt as though she might break apart. When she felt like this, 

when she felt she could not take another step, she used the word that was the first word 

she had spoken to them. 

"Help."

One of them would pick her up then and run with her until she requested to be placed on 

the ground to once again run beside them. It was easier for her to run when her sight 

began to return to her. It was very slow and obscure, but it was better than the absolute 

darkness of before. She still did not know color, but was confidant that this particular 

ability would return to her soon. This progress pleased her, but she could not stop 

wishing for the day when she would once again know color. 

For seven days she was happy.

Having never really known true happiness before, she naively wished it be with her 

forever. She foresaw nothing that could bring her joy to an end, so she did not let any 

apprehension cast dark clouds on her bright mind-noise. A lesson to be learned by all is 

that foresight is blind and never to be trusted to see a true image of the future. A lesson 

that would soon come to her, because after her seven days in which she knew her first 

happiness, the questions came.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

She knew they wished to know more of her, but she was taken aback by the intensity of 

the desire of the taller male to know why she had been the prisoner of the cell. Now that 

she once again knew time, it became apparent that she had endured the sempiternity of 

the cell for a more time than she had ever imagined previously. The smaller of the two 

had also made mind-noise that spoke of his wish to know why, but the taller was 

voracious in his quest for the knowledge of the darkness in her life. She would not 

answer him when he pressed his questions to her. She couldn't make mouth-words about 

the cell; to do so she knew would be akin to physical pain for her. She hoped that the 

taller would stop asking her, but her hopes were in vain. The smaller tried to dissuade the 

taller from his tenacious questions, but it was of no avail.

It was as if the smaller anticipated the distress that these words would bring her. After the 

taller was finished with his daily questioning, she would place her hand on the smaller's 

arm and give him two mouth words. 

"Thank you."

He never made mouth-noise back to her, but his mind-noise spoke of such satisfaction in 

these two simple words that it pleased her to give them to him every day because the 

gratification of his reaction never dimmed in its intensity. Every day she meant these 

words more and more for the taller grew greatly frustrated with her to refusal to make 

mouth-words with him. However futile the smaller's attempts may have been in its 

effectiveness to thwart the inevitable questions, it was always meant with such a genuine 

sincerity that she was always grateful for it.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

It was not long until the taller could no longer bear her refusal.

The day began as any other day did.

It passed as any other day did.

It would have ended as any other day did, if it had not been for the questions.

They were all the same inquiries that he had made before and she hardened herself 

against them. She made herself as unmovable as mountain, as frozen as ice. His mind-

noise was louder than ever that day and, for the first time since she left the prison walls of 

Manticore, fear filled her. 

She was right to fear.

He flung himself at her and pinned her against a tree. She sensed his movement before he 

made it, as she always did. It had been the reason they had given her the gift. The ability 

to sense your opponents attacks before they even made them. The ability to invade their 

very thoughts. It made her a terrible weapon. Those at Manticore though she would theirs 

to use and dispose of. She didn't let them use her and the price of her defiance was more 

than she could have ever anticipated. Yet, even with her gift, she made no move to stop 

his actions against her. She was unmovable. She was stone. She was-

"State your designation, soldier!"

He had never asked this question.

Before she even had the time to think she felt her mouth open and words involuntarily 

leave it. 

"X5-491, sir!"

The taller's hands left her body then she fell heavy to the ground. Her hands flew to her 

mouth and pressed hard against it, as if to hold in any other words that would leave it as 

unexpectedly as the first set. Where had those mouth-words came from? One hand left 

her mouth and pressed itself to the back of her neck to cover her barcode as the images 

flooded her mind.

@@@

"State your designation!"

"X5-491, sir!"

"I'm pleased with your progress, 491. We have great expectations from you."

@@@

491

491

491

Designation.

Discipline.

Loyalty.

Resistance.

Betrayal.

Song.

Pain. 

The Cell.

It would always come back to the cell. The doctors had called her 491. Her unit had 

called her 491. The dark minded man had called her 491.

Those who had confined her, had imprisoned her, had broken her until her songs had died 

within her; they had all called her this.

She had tried to forget. So hard to forget. She hated these numbers. Numbers. She'd 

always hated numbers. She looked into the faces of those who had saved her, heard their 

mind-noise and knew that these numbers were more her enemy now then were ever in the 

past. For now those who had cared for her knew. With three simple little numbers they 

knew who she was. They knew what she had done. They knew why she had been in the 

cell. They knew of those that had died at her hands. And she knew of their fear. 

Fear. She had known this fear before. It was a fear of her and what her gift made her 

capable of. 

They had backed away from her, stance and eyes telling her everything she needed to 

know. With her raspy, wheezing voice she said the words that were in her mind.

"You know now. You-you fear me."

She knew what she must do. She ran. She ran as fast as her still sickly body would allow 

her. She ran as fast as she could with her vision being nothing more than obscurely vague 

gray shapes.

She ran.

And they did not follow her.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

She couldn't cover very much ground before her legs began to feel the strain of her 

excessive employment of them. As the daylight began to fade, so did her slowly bettering 

vision. She was left in the dark again. She could not deny that it was impossible for her to 

continue on safely. 

She kneeled down on the ground and held her hands out in what any other would 

consider a position of prayer. In some strange way, what she did then was strangely akin 

to a prayer. It was a simple wish, a wish that they would not follow her. She had not 

heard their footsteps at all in her flight, but she had not been cautious enough to be sure. 

Her body shook, but not with tears. No, she shook with fear. There were two now who 

knew who she was. What she was. What she could do. It hadn't even occurred to her that 

these fellow transgenics would turn so easily on her, but she reasoned that the signs had 

been there all along. Part of her own unit turned on her. She killed them. She prayed 

without knowing how that she would not kill these two.

Was there no one group of which she might belong?

Where could she go?

Who could she turn to?

She was not so absorbed in her fear that she missed the far off noise in her ears. A voice. 

Male. Mind-noise, she guessed. She strained herself to hear. Maybe this voice could help 

her? She wouldn't let what happened before happen again. She would not let this new 

voice know of her past. She would not-

It hit her harder than any slap the dark minded man had bestowed upon her. 

This was the smaller's mind-noise!

She strained her mind almost to its breaking point to hear the mind-voice of this former 

comrade. She was frantic. Were they coming for her? Would they try to kill her? She 

knew she was not strong enough now to fight them both off. Nor was she strong enough 

to out run them, especially with darkness around her. So she listened. The tone was once 

of urgency. He and the taller were attempting to find the rest of their unit. She became 

confused. Why had they not tried to seek out their unit when she was with them? She 

listened harder. They knew it was their duty to warn as many as possible. 

She tensed. What was this danger near that they would warn their unit of? She prepared 

herself to flee once again.

No.

The danger the smaller's mind-noise spoke of was her.

They were going to warn others of her.

The danger was her.

She was the danger.

They would come with more numbers to kill her

Those who had once do diligently cared for her would feel her neck snap beneath their 

careless hands, just as she had felt so many years ago. 

Would they be confined as she had?

Would her mind-screams haunt their dreams?

No.

They would exonerate her death and their dreams her not be filled with her screams.

She must not let this happen.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

It was easy to find them.

It was even easier to track them.

She had to do so for two days before the opportunity presented itself in the form of the 

smaller sleeping and the taller keeping watch. Even in her weakened state, tracking 

something was her strong point. She could follow from a long distance, the mind-noise of 

her victims telling her everything that her eyes could not.

It was easy to drop from the tree onto the taller and hear his mind-scream as her frail 

fingers snapped his neck.

But it was harder to lay her hands upon the smaller with such an intent to kill.

She kneeled for hours over him, her hair grown long almost brushing against his chest in 

a whispering caress, striving to put her hands around his neck, yet withdrawing them 

every time, just before they came in contact with his skin. He was the first to show an 

indisputable compassion towards her, and she would remember him always for this. But 

she could not let him live if it meant her death. Yet still, she could also not bring herself 

to set this course of action in place. But in the end, she didn't have to. The course was set 

as soon as the smaller opened his eyes.

He didn't say anything; he just gazed up at her. There was no fear in his face or his mind-

noise, and it was evident to her that he thought he was still dreaming.

"I will always remember your kindness. I had hoped you would understand. But you did 

not."

She felt a strange, yet persistent need to give this man whom had been so admired by her, 

many mouth-words. Her mouth-words had always made him so pleased in the past when 

she had given them to him, and it was an overwhelming this desire inside of her for this 

man to die unafraid. Not like the others whose mind-noise had cried out of confusion and 

fear before their death. She touched his hair and he made a bright smiling face at her. She 

continued to stroke his hair and made a bright smiling face of her own at him to sooth his 

mind-noise even further. 

"You make happy faces now. What face will you make when you find I am not a 

dream?"

Crack!

It was done before she even thought about it. He was dead and she was safe from death. 

Safe from the cell. Safe from all people, she thought. She accepted that her number name 

would always be her greatest enemy and resolved to never let another know it. Safety. 

His blood on her hands was the sign that her life would be free after this moment. 

Sunlight filtered through the trees as the sun broke from the horizon. 

She stared for a long time. She thought it could not be real. She thought that she must be 

wrong. It was pale and faded at first, but grew stronger and stronger with every passing 

moment until she could no longer deny its presence. 

It was color.

For the first time in years, color flooded her vision slowly; still not as vivid as it would be 

when her eyes were completely healed.

She remembered the color names.

No.

No!

NO!

His eyes were blue.

His blood was red.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Her scream filled the clearing.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

To be continued...

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Woo! Chapter three took me forever to write and I'd just like to thank four people who 

reviewed chapter two. So thank you, Angelkat, JoJo, Bammer and Weatherly's Evil 

Clone. You guys rock! And also thanks to Nini A.K.A. The Silent Following Potato With 

Downcast Eyes. Go check out her awesome Xena fic, Hands of Fate. Thanks!

8

1

1


	4. She searched for her good place...

Disclaimer: No I still don't own Dark Angel!  
  
Notes: Goodness! I've spent forever on this chapter! I put it off for a while because I wasn't quite sure where I wanted to go with it quite yet. But when I went to actually write it, it proved to be nothing but trouble. I'm ever so glad it's just done (until it's time to write the next one!) for now so I can get back to reality. Happy reading!  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
...The Unspoken...  
  
...by Plastic Female Plaything...  
  
...plasticteenprototype@earthlink.net...  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
Her life in the forest is difficult to bear at times. Sometimes she, in the beginning days of the cell, would fear that the food would not come in time and she would die. As she laid upon her mat, she would think about what would happen if the food did not come. Would she pass away, even less than skin and bones? Would she shrink to oblivion? How long would it be before they realized that life no longer existed within her? Sometimes it came only just in time, when she was certain that all hope was lost to her; she was almost to weak to feed herself, and it was this that caused fear to take hold of her with biting, relentless fingers. In the subsequent cell- days, she was not possessed by any anxiety. Food always came, sometimes too soon, sometimes not soon enough. She almost embraced the absences in nourishment, for when the pains of hunger eat away at your insides, you never tire of thoughts of food. There can be no monotony, for every moment spent is a struggle.  
  
The point is, however, that the food always came. It was always provided to her. Even after Manticore, her role hadn't been one of the provider. The two male's had always seen to her well being. No, she was purely dependent on another for everything. Everything was provided to her, and yet such terrible things were expected of her in return. She had always been at the mercy of another. So, it was a shock worst of all to see to the task of maintaining her herself. What did she know of food? Food at Manticore had come on clacking, clanking dishes and trays. Food on the outside, the food that the two males had brought her, had been contained in noisy outer wrappings. When she first saw them, she thought that the packaging was meant to be consumed as well. The two males had emphatically assured her otherwise. She would have rather killed herself than attempt to seek out Manticore to see if any of it still stood and she knew not where the two males had acquired the noisy food.  
  
The two males. She had remembered from the sparse teachings that they had bequeathed upon her before her captivity, that is was a custom of those on the outside of the walls to bury their dead beneath the ground. She thought that the custom was an anomalous one, but preferable to what they might do to you after loss of life in Manticore. She knew sensation of the flesh was not possible after death, but it still seemed unbefitting for the doctors to cut the victims of deaths so, doing their horrid test to see what went "wrong". So she came to a decision concerning the disposal of the two males. All of the former inhabitants of Manticore were a part of this outside world now. Yes, she thought. I will give them the after death of an outsider.  
  
It took her a long time to dig the grave. She had no tools to with which to scrape away at the earth underfoot, save her own bony fingers.  
  
It was so very irrevocable, laying her former liberators in the shallow void she had dug. She stared for a long while at their pale upturned faces, their wide sightless eyes which had once looked at her with such compassion. She knew that their skin was cold as ice now and that time would eat away at their flesh until only bones remained. Bones under the ground. Under the dirt. Dirty bones. Maybe some curious person would find them one days and wonder about them.  
  
Who were they, the curious person would think. Why are they here?  
  
Will this curious person think of her? The one who killed them?  
  
Death. Must she always be the bringer of it?  
  
Handfuls of mud fell on those expressionless faces until she could no longer see them. She mounded dead leaves onto the freshly turned earth until this location could not be distinguished from any other in the forest. Part of her wished to mark this place of death so that she might return one day. The other, more reasonable side of her knew that a marked grave would lead to a discovery that came to far to quickly. Two groups of bones in a shallow grave would raise questions, but two fresh bodies with distinguishable barcodes on the backs of their necks would give answers. It was a small chance that someone might find them in time to identify them, yet it was one that she could not take. She did not tarry long after the task was completed. Her goodbye's had already been spoken. It made no sense to her to stay. To stay would mean to long for something that would never ever be again. Instead, she took solace in the immensity of the forest. It was her only comfort in life. She had thought color would be a great reassurance to her once it returned, but it was not. All that it did was serve as a reminder that two she had cared for greatly were dead by her hands.  
  
Her hands had seen much blood. Her only fear was that they would see it again.  
  
After she had gotten what she felt to be a sufficient distance away, it became apparent to her that she must learn to take on the role of the provider… and quickly. She counted three day lengths past since her last meal. It was another day-length passed before her desperation drove her to kill the small, furred creature and consume its flesh. Its taste was vile in her mouth; she had no method with which to cook it. Yet, it was her only source of food and it did not scream in her mind. So she hunted these small creatures and searched for a fresh source of water.  
  
Time had also been a thing she once looked forward to, but no longer did it seem such a precious singularity. She lost track of the days. It seemed a time long ago when the measurement of the day with the rising and setting of the sun was an event worth remembering. It was a time of healing and learning for her. She ate food and drank water every day. What a luxury! Her eyes improved daily. She took no pleasure in the colors of things true enough, yet sight was a still treasured when you must seek out your own food every day. The atrophy of her muscles did not heal so quickly and naturally as her eyesight. After she had eaten and bathed every day, she would mimic the movements and exercises she remembered from her days before the cell. In the nighttime she climbed a tree, positioned herself so that she would not fall from its branches if she should drift off during the course of the darkness. Night was a time for rest. Rest was good. Even if she did not need to sleep that night, she still enjoyed sitting in the tree during the nighttime. It was peaceful.  
  
Time passed this way. She was content. It was not the happiness of before, nor was it the helpless rage of the far past. She was content. Content. She was content. But content was an emotion that went best hand in hand with a small amount of happiness. And of this she had none.  
  
Oh, how she wished for happiness!  
  
She didn't like to think of the impending future, for she knew that she could not pass the rest of her life as it was now. She didn't like to think of it, but she knew this was only a temporary way of life.  
  
People. She had been without human interaction for so very long that her current prolonged period of self induced social isolation seemed natural. But she could not forget the joy on the smaller's face when she made mouth- words with him. It made her long to make mouth-words with another. Maybe it was not so much the mouth-words, for she had never cared to use them often. Maybe it was the companionship she longed for. There is something entirely different about being alone and saying nothing and being with another and saying nothing. She found the latter to be preferable.  
  
She sat underneath the sleeping tree one day that held a sweet warm breeze brushing against her. Such days were becoming an opulent delight. The weather was poor and was becoming increasingly worse with every passing day. Another sign she ignored telling her than she must seek a true refuge.  
  
She thought about her harsh, rasping voice. She thought about how she might heal this, like her eyes and her still fragile body. She could not bring herself to speak aloud to the forest, such a waste of words she could never abide by. No, she would not waste words in such a manner. But what could she do?  
  
Sing, her mind whispered. You could sing.  
  
Panic seized her. No! Never! Never would she sing again. For her, to sing was now an anathema. It was something never to be thought of. Under any circumstances. Yet, perhaps the songs had not died entirely within her; she did think of them after all. Yes, oh yes. They were still there. She remembered every word, every melody, and every emotion that flowed in her blood as she sang. She wondered how she could have ever forgotten such a thing. This knowledge did not make her happy, however. She shook to remember such things. She could almost feel the dark minded man echoing within her. She forced away any thoughts of mouth-noise and people and leaving the forest and most of all the songs she still felt within her with such a rage that she shocked herself at times.  
  
This fleeting relapse was enough, however to signify the death of her content. Now she became troubled. Every moment she was tormented with thoughts of finding others. Finding a true shelter. She knew now to cast away her number name and never let another know it. Desperation drove her, as it had so many times before. A place, she imagined. A place where she would always be warm and dry. A place where she could always find food and when she did it would not sit heavy in her stomach. A place where she might have another to exchange mouth-words with to strengthen her voice. It became a powerful obsession for her. Soon she didn't even feel guilty for thinking of this long imagined good place.  
  
What had happened before would not happen again, she told herself. Caution. She knew that she must take caution. With caution and the knowledge that hindsight had gifted her with she knew her good place was within reach. I will triumph, she thinks. I must.  
  
It was raining in soft pitter-patters, little drip-drip-drips filtering through the leaves and branches of the trees that made up her home, the day that she set to find her good place. She knew not how she long she wandered before she found a road. A road she knew. There had been roads in and around Manticore and she knew very well what cars were. She wasn't quite sure why or how she knew this road would lead her to the good place; all she knew was that it was her best hope to find it. If anything, it deserved a chance. She walked down the road. It would do her no good to run in this weather with everything being as slippery as a fish's scales. It was beginning to grow dark and the intensity of the rain was only increasing with its pitter-patters, little drip-drip-drips becoming harsh PITTER- PATTERS, large drip-drip-drips. She'd been walking for only a small while with the rain painfully hard against her hunched back when the car came.  
  
It slowed down behind her as not to hit her. For this she was grateful. For the loud, offensive "honking" noise she was not. She would not move! Let this car move instead. She did not look back. She only continued her steady, plodding pace onward. She would not let this foolish person affect her! She knew not why this was so important to her, why she let her first encounter with another person (something long looked forward to) become dismissed so easily as a cause for annoyance, for anger.  
  
She was forced to respond when the car swerved suddenly to drive slowly beside her, the window rolled down and she was addressed from within.  
  
"Are you always this stubborn?"  
  
What a strange question to ask her! Most would simply drive around her, she imagined. She wasn't entirely acquainted in the customs of driving a car, but to ask such a question of her seemed odd. Yet, she preferred it to any other thing this person might have done, so she thought back in her life as to best answer the question truthfully. "Yes," she divulged, still not looking into the face of the speaker.  
  
Pause.  
  
"Do you need a ride?"  
  
A ride. A chance to get out of the cold rain and reach a destination faster than she ever could walking or even running. Such thoughts of the speaker as originally had must be put aside, she thought. This opportunity could not be passed up. She could easily defend herself if the occasion called for it. To be out of the cold would be best.  
  
"Yes," she said, looking now into the face of the male addressing her. His mind-noise told her that he meant her no ill will.  
  
"Get in then."  
  
She walked around to the other side of the car and pressed her hands against the door in search of the handle. Upon finding it, she pulled it open and slid into the car. She shut the door behind her and turned to face the driver. The car lurched in forward motion.  
  
"Where are you headed?"  
  
She saw no reason not to answer truthfully, so she did.  
  
"Some place warm… with people," she added as hastily as her long unused vocal chords would allow. She could not bring herself to mimic this male's sharp bark of laughter that followed her words.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
Panic seized her with sharp fingers. Calm came only when she learned from his mind-noise that it was not her number-name he sought. Again her answer was truthful. She would lie if she must, but she saw no reason to hide anything when no danger was present.  
  
"I do not have one."  
  
His mind-noise grew loud within her. It was suspicious. She didn't understand. She had given him no reason to suspect her. Of anything! Was the possession of a name so important? If so, or even if not, she decided to come upon the possession of one once she found and settled in her good place. She had to concentrate very closely to divine the cause of his suspicion. Her eyes widened as she discovered the cause.  
  
"Oh!" she exclaimed with out thinking. "You are as I am," she stated slowly, to clarify. No reason to hide it. Just so long as she did not tell him her number-name.  
  
He became all smooth, slippery words then. She almost laughed. Foolish. He did not know there was no way to hide the truth from her.  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
She reached over. When he realized it was her intention to touch him, he caught her wrist within his grasp. She let him. Her she looked at him, and she urged him with soft eyes and soft facial features to trust her. He loosened his grip, enough so that she could slide her wrist through his loose fingers and touch the back of his neck where his barcode was. She then touched her own with her other hand and made a small smile at him to indicate her meaning. She was as he was. She removed her hands and looked away. No words were necessary. He looked back to the road, cursed loudly as he readjusted the car so it was again following the path that the road had ordained and the spell cast upon them both was broken. His sarcastic comment only confirmed what they both knew. Broken and not to return.  
  
"Another freak out of the zoo, eh?"  
  
Although she did not quite understand exactly what was meant by those words, she responded with "Yes," anyway.  
  
They drove in a silence of mouth-words, and she chose not to concentrate on his mind-noise, instead concentrating on making some mind-noise of her own.  
  
@@@  
  
"This is as far as I can take you."  
  
She awoke suddenly. Asleep? Had she fallen asleep? She quickly counted. It had been two days since her last sleep. Had she known the true extent of her fatigue she would have slept before she set out on her journey.  
  
"What is this place?" she asked in wonder. Never had she seen such a place before! Could this be her good place?  
  
"This? This is Seattle."  
  
What a world! She opened the car door, eager to see more of this new place. She stepped out of the car. It was very late and few people where still roaming the streets, but to her they were more than she had seen in a very long time. She walked away, touching this and that to make sure it was all real, not a dream. The driver watched her walk away, her expression of amazement included. His mind-noise told her that something was missing from their encounter. Yes. He was right. She must rectify this.  
  
"Thank you!" she called out to him.  
  
"Yeah, whatever." His mouth-noise said it meant nothing, but his mind-noise spoke differently. She made a bright smile at him, knowing that this simple acknowledgement of a service done was something not often received so openly as she gave them.  
  
Now she would satisfy her own mind's curiosity. She needed a little something to remember this person and his kind act to a stranger by.  
  
"What is your name?" she asked hesitantly. Asking questions was something foreign to her, but her apprehension was brief for he answered promptly.  
  
"Alec."  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
To be continued…  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-  
  
As always I'd like to thank the people who reviewed, the only thing that got me through the horrendous time I had finishing this chapter. So thank you motorcycle_angel, IzzyB, LeaAnn681, Liz, the raven, Vivian Kain (glad I inspired you! Gee, that's a first for me. :p) and especially logan's stalker. Your review was very well placed (right in the middle of my slump!) and was forceful enough to fire my obsession the last couple of days to get things think done. Thanks all! Also thanks to TSPWDE for bragging about her number of reviews to me *giggle*, yet another contributing factor for me to get this thing out fast than it otherwise would have come. Thank you all once again and have a nice day. 


	5. But she was quick to discover...

Disclaimer: No I still don't own Dark Angel!  
  
Notes: I know you all must **loathe me for taking so ****dreadfully long on this chapter. Heck, I loathe me! :p Please forgive me! I'm sorry! IMPORTANT! I've dicided to dedicate this whole entire chapter to Logan's Stalker, my faithful reviewer whose praise is always so well placed. I had thought I was going to give up this entire story, but I didn't thanks to a nice little reminder that at least one person ****really likes this story. So I sat down and banged this bad boy out in two days. So Logan's Stalker, this chapter is yours. It is officially your chapter. Thanks!**

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
...The Unspoken...  
...by Plastic Female Plaything...  
...plasticteenprototype@earthlink.net...  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~

She was quick to discover that her good place was not as she had pictured it to be. 

"Goodbye, Alec."

It was the only farewell that she knew, so she supposed it would have to be enough for this particular parting. She wished for the knowledge of a spoken farewell that better conveyed a hope to see this person again, but her wishes came to no sudden and miraculous avail. So, with this name learned and her farewell given voice she was ready to take her leave of him. Her desire to see and explore this newly discovered good place was rising swift within her. Swift and hard with a force even the best self-control must succumb to.  So she turned and began to walk away.

Yet, Alec had paid her a great service and she couldn't leave him with his mind-noise so in such a state of agitation. She thought rather amusedly that her farewell could not have been so ill said as to cause such distress. No, she discovered upon concentrating more closely the root of his distress, that it was not her lack of an eloquent farewell. A part of him did not want to get involved with her life. More trouble, he thought and she knew with a sudden pang insider her that he was all to right. She was trouble. She was danger. The two males had known the truth before their deaths and she had killed them for it. Yet, the other part of him was opposed to letting her wander this city without any means of support. No. She had come to her good place to escape her isolation. To make mouth-noise with others. But she must make sure that her past mistakes always prevent her from relying fully on another. And this is what he wanted. For her to rely on him. Part of him anyway. She prayed that the part that despised trouble would win over. She knew she would discover this world on her own. She knew that she must assess the customs of and speech patterns of the inhabitants of this city before she threw herself into the role of one of them. She might find then that she was in need of assistance, but she would not accept the risk of the kind of dependency that he wanted of her ever again. Why must all lessons come so hard for me, she though.

She sighed. She could not refuse him until he offered his help. She began to slow her pace slightly.

Any moment now.

"Hey!"

Ah, here we go.

"Yes?"

"Listen," he stopped and sighed his frustration. Was this question really so difficult for him?

 "I know this girl… she can hook you up with a job, a place to stay, sector passes. I-"

She had never broken the speech of another in her life, but the call of her new world was overwhelming. Pushing at her. To resist would be useless. "I thank you," she paused, searching for the right words, "but I cannot accept your offer."

This flustered him she could tell, but she wished to indulge her own interests now. Again she turned to walk down this dark street, marveling at all that she had never seen before. Her hearing caught the vaguest of murmurs of mouth-noise as she made her path away from him; all she could make out was the word "ungrateful". She did not turn, nor did she lessen her pace… but oh how she smiled. 

Oh how she smiled.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~

She was quick to discover that this society was greatly different than all she had known before.

One, even when looking at the world with fresh eyes, could not gape at streetlights and wonder at buildings for the whole of the night. It was the structure of the society that she was interested, not the construction of their dwellings. So she found a small niche in a dirty ally to curl up in and wait until first light. She slept again, a true rarity, but a needed one because she knew that she wanted as much energy for the coming day as could be gained. Soon, she thought as she closed her eyes. Soon I will place all that has transpired before this time behind me and new memories shall be molded. Soon. 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~

"You ain't got a pass, you ain't goin' through. Now move away unless you lookin' for trouble."

She stared with wide, uncomprehending eyes at this stupid man, yet she did as she was told, moving away from the line of impatient people looking to go through the gates guarded by men in uniform. How had it come to this? She wished now that she had never been so foolish as to leave the forest. 

 She had not awoken softly this morning. It was an impossible feat; nothing was soft about this place.  She should have known that the large buildings she had so admired before would be full of people with large mind-noise. When she had first stepped onto the street, the noise hit her mind so roughly that her body stumbled backwards with the shock of it. Never in her life had she heard so many mind voices at once. Manitcore was silent for her. The forest was silent too. But this! So intense was it that she clapped her hands over her ears; a foolish attempt to make the noise stop. She couldn't take it.  Why had she ever left her forest for this evil place? She even cursed Alec. Why had he brought her here? But she did not curse him for long; somehow the remembrance of his face when she refused his help prevented her from thinking ill on him. She would remember him well. 

She knew, however well remembered Alec was, that she must leave this place called Seattle. She was not one of them. How could she have ever thought she could be?

An easy task it was not. She had pleaded with the uniformed men guarding the passages out of section of city she was in, but all was hopeless with out something called a "sector pass". Alec had offered her access to one and she had refused his offer of help. She could not help but berate herself for her stupidity concerning her interactions with Alec. How foolish she had been! 

The thought had not even occurred to her to attack the uniformed men in an attempt to force her way through the barriers.  It was something just not-to-be-done after her bouts of rage in the cell days. She despaired of ever finding her way out of this evil place. She thought of her forest. She thought of the tree she slept in. She thought of her stream she had bathed in. She though of the two males, laying death beneath the dirt of that forest.

And she wept with the want to return.

She had no choice now. She must learn the ways of this place in hopes of acquiring a "sector pass" in time. There were no other options for her. 

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~

She was quick to discover that desperation was the best of teachers.

When life offers you only one direction in which to travel, it becomes almost surprisingly easy to acquire the skills with which to make the journey. It was no different for her. She forced disappointment down within herself and did what she knew was necessary to learn to survive her own journey.

She opened her eyes to better see and mimic the actions of the people around her. 

She opened her ears to better hear and mimic the tones and inflictions in mouth speech.  

She opened her mind to catalogue the common phrases and opinions she heard in mind-noise. 

She stayed as hidden as possible during her self inflicted education. Sometimes she ventured into plain sight to observe financial transactions but for the most part she watched. The people in this city seemed to care greatly about her cleanliness; after about a week of her inhabitance and she knew she could not afford anything that would draw any attention to herself. And being that everyone that passed by her on the street made negative mind-noise regarding her odor, she knew she must discover some way to bathe. 

So she waited one older woman that she had been observing over the past few days left her home. She snuck in through an unlocked window and made use of her bathing area. She of course wondered at the texture of carpet under her feet and the friendliness that the wall's pastel flower print seemed to radiate.  Once in the bathroom, and after the time she had trying to get the shower to work, she became confused by bottles proclaiming that they would give her hair "elasticity and shine" and promote "manageability" but quickly caught on to their use. Hair soap. It came in odd colors, but the smell was pleasing. The water was cold in the shower.  Even so, time in the shower was something to be enjoyed. 

She made use of the brightly colored towels in the bathing area to dry her body then she searched until she found a chest of drawers containing the woman's clothing. She choose the most practical items possible and changed into them, thinking that the nest time she did this she must choose a someone with a body type more similar to her own. She left the clothes she had been wearing previously, for she had no use for them and it would be foolish for her to carry them around with her. She resolved to make a habit of this every fourth day, as she slipped out through the window. Always a different home and always different clothes. Preferably ones that fit better, she held up the loose folds of fabric in disgust.

She would have liked a more reliable source of food that she could get by slipping it unnoticed from a stall in the large outdoor market she often frequented. And the product of her watching in the aforementioned market was the knowledge that the driving force of this society was money. Money was most certainly a more reliable source of food. But where was one to get a reliable source of money? Judging from her forays into the mind-noise of those around her something very unpleasant called a "job" must be possessed in order to produce money. She was hesitant to seek out a "job" because not one mind-voice that she had encountered seemed to think very highly of them. It seemed that there was no other way to come about money, besides forcibly taking it from those that possessed it, which she did on occasion from those whose contempt for her dirty appearance was blatantly present in both mind and face. Never outright, of course, but with swift hands slipped into pockets and purses. Money for this and that. It never lasted long though and more things were taken than things paid for.

She slipped into a routine. She slept in her corner of a dirty ally. She bathed in the houses of strangers. She took what was need from the market. Once in rained so hard the market wasn't held, so instead she went to a small store and took what she could before the man that stood behind a tall counter and thick glass became suspicious. She never went to the store again. She felt as though taking from that indoor store was something not-to-have-been-done. She couldn't say exactly whey she felt that way. 

But she was very soon to discover what she had risked by taking a loaf of bread and a bag of chips from a corner store.

**Even more, she would discover what she had gained.**

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~

To be continued….  

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~

And it's not like Logan's Stalker gets all the credit! As always, my heartfelt thanks goes out to IzzyB, Angelbebe, JoJo, cait, motorcycle_angel, and Mija. You guys are awesome! Super nice days and chocolate-chip cookies to all! J Also, this eventually will have a tiny bit of romance in it. But I'll never tell you who! So there! ;p It's not really going to be the main focus of the story, so never fear. I won't let this get mushy. *pictures this getting mushy* Ewwww!


	6. It didn't exist...

Disclaimer: No I still don't own Dark Angel!  
  
Notes: Ha! The Unspoken is finally back from vacation. Woah. It's been a while, hasn't it? I can't apologize enough for this. But now that's it's happy summer, I'll have a lot more time to write. That is. providing I get some reviews. :)  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
...The Unspoken...  
  
...by Plastic Female Plaything...  
  
...plasticteenprototype@earthlink.net...  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
It was an amazingly high quality recording, considering what it's purpose was. The camera that had captured the images now flitting across an old TV set had been purchased from a man whose eyes shifted far to often for trust. In color even. Better, far better than even the most high end of convenience store security cameras, but then again, it was a stolen camera. The recording itself depicted the store front of a grubby little shop. Food and various other products were not placed uniformly onto shelves, but instead heaped haphazardly into large cardboard boxes for the customers to rifle through. A small dark haired man stood behind reinforced glass and counter, bringing to mind a sort of fortress to protect him from those certain unlikable types.  
  
He was watching very closely a small sickly young woman with long, limp dark hair and clothing that was far to big for her. She bent over various boxes to inspect their contents, lifting this and that, reading labels carefully only to place the object back down into the box from whence it came. For a small moment she looked up and directly into the camera, her pale face emotionless, before turning back to her task. And then the store clerk's eyes shifted to follow the path of a pretty girl, in clothing that didn't quite cover enough skin to be comfortable with the rainy sort of weather that was outside, as she came in the front door of the shop. As he was blatantly eyeing the woman's rain soaked form, the other young woman bent and stuffed what appeared to be a bag of chips and a loaf of bread into her voluminous clothing. She walked to swiftly to the door then, and as she opened it, a gust of wind from the unpleasant weather blew her hair away from her face. Leaving the back of her neck exposed. More importantly, leaving a barcode perfectly visible.  
  
The man tightened his grip on the remote control in shock, but by then the girl was already out the door and gone from the recording. He pressed the rewind button frantically, then pause. There it was, a frozen moment in which one small girl, more bones and skin than flesh with her dark hair blown back to reveal the barcode she'd been born with; a testament given at the moment she was born to the life she would have forced upon her. The little man rewound again, to the moment that she had stared unwittingly into the camera and paused it there, staring into her face for a few moments. Then this man, who was the very same store clerk from the surveillance tape, went into the next room, picked up the telephone and, with full knowledge of what he was about to do, signed that pale faced transgenic's death warrant.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
She had no idea as to what to do with herself. It was an undeniable fact. She flitted through one day to the next, stealing only enough to keep her alive and shying away from human contact. She'd lived in this hell called Seattle for so much longer than she had intended. Every day was spent the same as the last day. Monotony invaded every motion she made; every breath she took was the same as the last taken. And the worst of it? No solution was to be found. She still had not came across a way to get one of these "sector passes" other than to posses a job. And to posses a job, she had quickly learned after a failed attempt to get one, was to ensconce oneself so completely in the inner workings of society that untangling yourself was a difficult task indeed.  
  
Perhaps a slight exaggeration on her part, but she feared tying herself in any way to this city or the people within, so it was the only way she was capable of seeing the matter. She wouldn't stay. She couldn't. So ties could not be made. But what other choice did she have? She blamed the influence of the outsiders for this new concept of making ones problems disappear with avoidance. How very many things she didn't understand. This thing called avoidance she was displaying was nothing more than a human tendency, possessed by all. But as it can only be when avoidance is in play, the problem never really leaves. It only waits, just around the corner, lingering on the edge of your vision, for the moment to make its self apparent.  
  
There had been a small moment, (she refused to acknowledge it now, but it had existed), when she thought she might stay. A small moment when she thought she might find a way to be happy here. A small moment when she wanted to try. But it was only very small. A frown crossed her features as unwanted memories fluttered across her mind.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
He passed by her ally way every morning. And she watched him. He was such a pretty boy, if nothing else. She knew that to consider his physical beauty alone was foolish, but she could not help herself. She grew to enjoy the his brief passing. To look forward to it. To depend upon it. She imagined herself happy at his side, his mind-noise filling with bright words in her favor. So one day, when he passed her ally way, she was ready. She stepped out and hurried to catch up with his brisk strides. "Excuse me," she called out in her halting, stumbling tones. And this beautiful boy stopped and turned to look at her. She was faced full on with his radiance and in this moment she knew a kind of racing fear that she had never known before. Her heart beat heavily within her chest and her mind fluttered to a thousand little dreams. But then the beautiful boy spoke. "Yeah?" All her words froze within her and she could only look up at him (for he was much taller than her, but then, most were taller than her) and stare in horror as the next words fell from his perfect lips. "Listen, I don't know who you are, but I really don't have time for this." She had learned that the proper course of meeting another at one point or another involved the exchange of names. She'd found a ripped bit of paper on the ground one day shortly after her arrival to Seattle with three little letters on it. Rin. She decided then that this was as good as any name (it wasn't as though she really cared one way or another) and would call herself that if every a situation called for a name. And if ever there was a situation, she thought, that called for a name, this one was it. "My name is. Rin." She was pleased with herself then. Not for very long though. "Whatever. I don't have any money. Now get the hell away from me." Everyone of those thousand dreams fluttering in her mind fell and shattered on those words. He turned around again and hurried off in his original destination. She stared hard at his retreating form until he rounded a corner and out of her sight. She hated everyone then.  
  
But most of all herself.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
The little store clerk sat in an over large plastic chair, one of the many that lined one wall of the waiting room he was in. He looked terribly out of place next to the white walls and the plastic potted plant in the corner. Even with his cleanest shirt on and slicked back hair, the secretary with unrealistically blond hair eyed him in a thoroughly unimpressed manner as she cracked her gum. Finally, her nasal tones announced that "Mr. Dumas will see you now."  
  
The gold lettering on Mr. Dumas's door flashed in the artificial light from above as the store clerk stepped in. After being told briskly to sit in a chair closely resembling the one he'd just been sitting in, he waited for another quarter-hour while a stereotypically bald Mr. Dumas fussed about answering phone calls and generally attempting to ignore the store clerk for as long as he possibly could. "And just what is it that you think have to offer Seattle's number one news station?" asked Mr. Dumas, trailing his eyes down the store clerk's appearance with an air of such sarcasm that could not be ignored, even by the most oblivious. " I have this. I think you'll be very interested," said the clerk, while fishing the old video cassette out of his jacket and pushing it half way across Mr. Dumas's desk "And just what is this?" asked Mr. Dumas, pushing the cassette back towards the clerk only to have it push it right back at him. "It's footage of a transgenic." "Yes, well then. I believe we can work out something." Mr. Dumas reached forward to take hold of the video, but the clerk was faster, snatching it up and holding it up out of Mr. Dumas's reach. "I don't believe you know exactly what I'm offering. I'm not stupid." "I never made any implication that you-" "I know as well as anyone that the media hasn't seen hide or hair of one of them for way too long. All you've got is old footage. Your viewers are getting bored. What I'm offering you is exclusivity. You and I know what that would do for your station. You and I also know it'll cost you." Mr. Dumas looked passively at the tape in the clerk's hand before his answer came. "Very well. Terms and details aside, not to mention an actual viewing of the tape, I believe we have ourselves a deal." "Very good, Mr. Dumas. Very good." "Now lets see that tape."  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
It was the second day after her last bathing so, according to the monotony her life had been forced into, it was sleeping night. When the sun sank below the building tops, she retreated to her little nook and made herself as comfortable as possible (which wasn't really very comfortable at all; crunched up with crumbling bricks at your back and the smell of old urine in the air) and sank slowly into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.  
  
She dreamt of many things that night, of the dark minded man and the beautiful boy. Of the taller and the smaller under the earth and Alec's face as she refused his help. She dreamed of people and places and a single voice singing high like bird song throughout it all.  
  
It was instinct that woke her when she felt something roughly take hold of her arm and she lashed out with her free arm at the suddenly frightened face the heavy set man that was holding her down. She'd landed only one good hit before another man took hold of her other arm. It was then that she realized six or so men were surrounding her and more were coming close to her to help hold down her flailing body. It was their mind-noise that drew her to a large pale haired man (supposedly their leader) and more importantly, the rusted iron bar he held in his hand. But her knowledge of what the iron bar was for could not stop the pale haired man from swinging it into her head. A hand clamped over her mouth and she vaguely realized through the white pain that consumed her body that she had been screaming. She kept on with her struggling, despite the fact that her mind teetered dangerously on the edge of consciousness.  
  
Through the pain she realized suddenly that she couldn't hear the mind- voices, and the thought scared her. But they never gave her time to dwell on her fear, or muse as to why so many sneering men she had never seen before in her life were attacking her, because the iron bar came down again, this time for her arm. The sound and feeling of the bones of her arm shattering made her bite down on hand holding her screams in. There was suddenly blood from this hand she had bitten and her own blood trickling down into her eyes so that she could not see. Her ears received the many ugly words they threw at her and the fury of the man whose hand she had just injured.  
  
The hands forced her up from the ground then and dragged her forward out of the ally and into the street which was suddenly full of people shouting and pointing at her as she stumbled along in the unforgiving hold of the sneering men. This new pressure on her broken arm made her screams come fresh and tears to join the blood running down her face.  
  
No escape, her mind whispered to her. This is your death you face. They'll kill you. They'll kill you. She only needed her eyes to see the wooden 'X' they were dragging her towards to confirm the truth of this. Her ears heard the multitude of people screaming "Burn her!". The acrid smell of gasoline filled her nose and her teetering consciousness slipped and fell of into comforting blackness as her body went limp in the arms of her captors.  
  
They'll kill you. This is your death.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
To be continued..  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
As always, thank you to the people who reviewed the last chapter, in this case, chapter five. Thank you Mija, Not Telling, Motorcycle_Angel, Logan's Stalker (who is always so very flattering), Insane and last but certainly not least, the faithful Jojo. You guys have no idea how much you rock. Thank you again and again and again! 


	7. Such simplicity...

Disclaimer: No I still don't own Dark Angel!  
  
Notes: I know quite well that it took me forever to get this chapter out but I forbid you to think bad on me for it because I spent the whole time working on it. This chapter has been a pain in the ass. Hope it's at least moderately passable, considering all the effort I put into it.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
...The Unspoken...  
  
...by Plastic Female Plaything...  
  
...plasticteenprototype@earthlink.net...  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
It was a strange sort of moment because it seemed to defy the very laws of time. It could have been a moment, a heart's beat that it lasted, or a thousand years, an eternity. There was haze of darkness so complete that it surrounded her like air, and yet somehow its omnipresence did not frighten her. Any sort of absolute darkness had an undesirable effect on her ever since the cell for understandable reasons, but there was a different feeling about this dark. Not a choking, smothering sensation as she was accustomed to. Perhaps it was because there was no feeling or even an awareness of her body, or maybe it was the absence of any sort of sound, but she felt such a comforting serenity that she was loath to ever let go of this place. No time or feeling or noise, just a peaceful drifting through infinity. No need to think or be aware or understand anything because simplicity was the very nature of everything.  
  
And then there was an abrupt presence that was not comforting in the slightest. The dark was quickly fading as her self awareness grew. A horrible panic took hold of her as she could hear herself screaming.  
  
In that flurry of light and her own voice screaming, she awoke.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
She was in pain. Oh, such terrible pain. This much was agonizingly apparent to her. Pain was familiar. This dingy age and neglect yellowed room with the hole in the wall opposite to her was not. It seemed almost the whole of her body was bound in white cloth, stained in places with old blood; her own she presumed. There was a window above the rusty metal cot she lay on, with the hard metal coils that stabbed her in the back, but the glass was to dirt speckled to do much more than let a pale, sickly light through onto her bandaged body. The walls held brownish stains in places, especially around the ceiling, and the wood floor gathered small, fluffy clumps of dust that sat huddled into corners. In one such corner their was a wooden chair with a faded fabric covering over the seat, and she also noted after inspection that there seemed to be a small table behind the head of her cot.  
  
She lay there for a very long time. Motion brought fresh pain, so the simple solution was to not move. This allowed for a great deal of thought and introspection. She remembered very well what had happened. She remembered those faces full of cruel intent, the iron bar, the wooden X, the smell of gasoline, and the crowd whose voiced hate she did not understand. But what had transpired while her mind drifted alone and numb with oblivion?  
  
Her breath caught with in her throat. She should be dead. How horrid this realization was. And yet she was not. She held up one of her own battered hands as if to further reassure this fact, watching in fascination as a small cut near the base of her thumb opened up from her movement and sluggishly leaked a small amount of blood. The concept of an existence after death was not something she was familiar with and even if she did believe in this idea, she would not suppose that this dirty little room was any sort of heaven or hell. Someone had saved that which was the most precious to her. Her life. And with this idea in her mind she let exhaustion drive her into the waiting arms of sleep.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
The sound of the door's rusty hinges creaking their way open was what woke her this second time. She was greatly interested; after all she had not yet seen another person and wished greatly for the knowledge they might impart upon her. It was a young girl-child with white blond hair and a plastic tray in her hands, much to Rin's disappointment. She had not known what to expect, but a child that could not be more than ten years of age was not what she wished. The child walked across the room, the small dust clusters fluttering (far to delicately for something as unbeautiful as a dust cluster) in her wake. She set the tray the rickety table. The pale haired child then dragged the chair from the corner over to her bedside and promptly sat upon it's faded fabric seat.  
  
"Wha-" was al she managed to utter before she was interrupted by the child.  
  
"Oh! You're awake! We'd thought you might be out for longer. I'm Nuri and I'll be changing your bandages for you."  
  
Her head still felt such a pain that it was impossible for her to hear the fair one's mind-noise, she noted with a sort of frantic uncomfortable-ness. She had never before been with out this particular ability, no doubt given to her by the horrid White Coats in the earlier days of Manticore. This realization rendered her thoughts and voice silent while Nuri's small hands flew with a well known practice across her body. Answers, she suddenly decided. She wanted answers. Even if she had to batter the girl to get them. It was no longer a want. It was a need, and needs are a far more instant things that any mere flimsy little want.  
  
"Why," she paused to reconsider her question for she herself knew not what to ask. "Where," she paused again, becoming frustrated with her inability to think properly. "What?"  
  
Nuri interrupted her three times question without preamble. "When you came to us two days ago, we weren't quite certain you'd pull through."  
  
"What happened to me? Why am I not dead?"  
  
The unformed bluntness of her words and the power of the turbulent emotion she could not help but put behind them obviously took Nuri aback. And yet the fair haired girl-child found it within herself to muster a simplicity to her reply that was befitting of the question asked.  
  
"You are not dead because Max saved you." The girl who called herself Rin for a sweet faced boy understood the with such an intensity the beauty of Nuri's statement. Oh, simplicity was wonderful. So many things great large things could be put into so few, short little words. Implication was a delightful aspect of this. She was not dead. What a horrendous difference life and death was. One was a whole world. A not so perfect world, but a world non the less, full of shape and color and texture. The other was nothing. An infinite nothing where you did not even possess the awareness to sorrow that the world, which we all at one time or another hold so close to us, was lost to you. Dirty bones under the earth in such a disgusting absence of flesh as to cause horror in who ever should find your morbid resting place. And yet, she was not dead. Why? Because some one called Max had saved her. Someone whom she did not know, ever even seen before had thrown back that which threatened her. Someone in this world that was both harsh and fragile at the same time had saved her very existence, had recognized the value of life in her. And it was such a value to Rin, but she had know no other since the kind days of the two males that had cared much one way or the other.  
  
Nuri interrupted her thoughts with such a hesitancy that it could almost be argued that she guessed the importance thereof.  
  
"You've got two broken ribs," she said and when she met no reaction from her prone patient she continued on. "Compound fractures in your," she gestured, "left arm. It's possible that regaining full mobility may take some time depending on the severity of the nerve damage. A bit head trauma. We can't really be sure if that will have any long term effects. We don't exactly have the equipment to handle properly diagnose or treat anything like that right now. The brain is a very dangerous aspect of the body to tamper with. Even with the T-cells in our blood it could still-"  
  
"Our blood?" The question came from no where and she only realized it's existence as the awkward words burst forth from her. Her mind had become stuck on one single thought only a few words into Nuri's medically informative monologue and continued to remain steadfastly stuck upon it. How on earth did one so young as she know so very much? Nuri's facial features took on the sort of blankness that only the terribly confused possess. "You have no idea where you are, do you?"  
  
This was truth if ever there was.  
  
"No."  
  
"Your're in terminal city."  
  
Now it was Rin's turn to take on Nuri's blank look.  
  
"Where?"  
  
The question was a necessary one; more information was need than the name of a place she had heard time to time (but never really paid much attention to) in passing snatches of mind-noise while sitting listless on the dirty side walks of Seattle. Did this mean she had finally escaped the clutches of that city? She would bless the day she had. All that terrible noise drove her to such an infuriation in her that she frightened herself. But why? The endless questions that had suddenly sprung up from with in her fueled a sudden annoyance at Nuri's furtive glances at the door and abrupt silence in response to her. She wished helplessly for her mind hearing to return so that she might pry her answers from the child's very brain, and yet her wishes were met with no miraculous fulfillment. How pathetic she felt! Bound to a bed by pain and injury, unable to make a simple child (who knew far to much for any comfort) answer her questions. Disgust for both herself and Nuri combined with the weight of her unanswered queries and the pain from her injuries was what caused her voice to scream its frustration at Nuri. Fear was what caused the fair haired child to run; the slamming door's harsh sound echoing finality in her ears. Another tie severed, she thought with self loathing as she stared down at her half changed bandages and partially exposed wounds.  
  
You have another who hates you now, her inner monologue dictated miserably. At least this time the reason is something entirely your fault.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
Two others came to finish tending her bandages soon after that but she found herself feigning sleep when they came, fearing that her anger would speak for her again. She knew what a palpable thing her anger was. Death followed her rages like a shadow so she forced it within herself as the two unknowns finished with her bandages and spoke softly about trivial, unimportant matters. To alienate every person in this unknown place was hardly a goal that she wished to attain.  
  
Thought was her company that night when sleep escaped her. What did she know? She knew she had been attacked, oh yes, she knew this all to well. She knew that while her mind swam in sweet oblivion, some one called Max had saved her from the very embrace of death and had taken her to place called "terminal city". The simplicity she loved so well would simply not serve in this situation. How could she accept her surroundings if she knew near to nothing about them? How long could she lie prone in this room before she was healed? Would they keep her here by force, and more importantly who were these people who tended her? The word 'why' had never before seemed so large and important to her and now she found it filling her mind, growing and growing until she was certain that her head might burst open from this terrible impatience.  
  
Resolve filled her and the next time someone entered her little room (this time to deliver a tray of various edibles) she opened her eyes and lifted her voice to address the rather tall male that bore the tray in question.  
  
"I want to speak with Max."  
  
The tall one seemed unaffected by her question and to her infinite frustration instead of words there was still only silence in her mind so she could not discern if this apathy was genuine.  
  
"I'll see if I can find her for you. In the mean time, " the tray bearer said while carefully lifting the upper half of her body into a sort of half leaning, half sitting position (a rather painful experience given her injuries) and plopped the food tray onto her newly formed lap, "Eat this," he finished and quickly exited her room.  
  
Hesitantly, she picked up the pronged object off the tray with the ridiculous name of "fork" and skewered a small portion of her unknown meal. Holding it up in front of her face for further contemplation, she carefully took a small bite. Hmm. And what a delight it was, she thought. Food had never quite been like this before.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
The shiningly golden concept of luck was with the girl called Rin on this matter for she had only just set aside her dishes from her thoroughly wonderful meal and was contemplating trying to arrange herself back into a comparatively more comfortable position when she head the keening squeak of her door's rusty hinges swinging to accommodate the pressure being place upon them. And all to suddenly there stood a girl, who looked to Rin the very picture of unintentional grace and hesitancy.  
  
"You wanted to speak with me." A statement of the obvious, but what else was there for situations like these?  
  
"Yes. I did. You see," she paused to sort her mind, and to cover her lengthy contemplation gestured at the chair, indicating (in what she had learned was a polite act) that sitting was approved of, "I don't know why or where I am."  
  
"You're in terminal city. I brought you here."  
  
"I understand this. Why?"  
  
"Because it's safe here. Because," Rin noted Max's eyes sudden interest with her bandages, "It's not safe for us out there any more. We can take care of our own here."  
  
"Our own?" The question was familiar.  
  
"Yeah," Max tapped the two slender fingers to the back of her neck in such a startlingly familiar gesture that she understood it's meaning perfectly.  
  
Oh. Well. That made sense.  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
To be continued..  
  
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~  
  
Thanks be to my two reviewers for the last chapter. As always to Logan's Stalker (whom I absolutely adore and promise to finish the story for) and to Teddy who doubled my reviews. I mean, sure it was from 1 to 2 but still! The appreciation remains! You guys rock as usual. 


End file.
